The old man applied for a job. Not much of a job, but it came with a badge and a flashlight. And what could be better than that? A little white pick-up truck with revolving lights atop the cab. The cover of darkness.
He did not like to fill out forms. Every single question required a lie and, contrary to popular opinion, he was not much of a liar. Explained why a career in politics had proved unsustainable. The Feds had moved him four times in six years and he just couldn’t keep up. He had actually forgotten how old he was. Once you got past his height and weight, the old man was basically clueless.
He let his wife fill in the blanks. The young redhead didn’t know him from before. But she knew his current story.
Former Seal. Ph. D. from Harvard in Cunning Linguistics. A marathon runner with a 2:19:34 personal record set at Boston in 1979. Married before but didn’t like to talk about those other women. His heart didn’t know any other women before her and that was the truth. The rest was just some made-up bullshit he could no longer keep straight.
The old man didn’t want the job, he didn’t need the money and he sure as shit didn’t want to be locked in a small hut with some wanna-be cop. He wanted to drive around by himself in the dark and see what he could see. Make the neighborhood great again.
Maybe take his dog with him. Really take a bite out of crime.